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“Shiro, Pidge—you’ll scout the Thrasslgor Sector. Report back any distress beacons. Hunk and I will touch down on Krell and see if there’s any resources we can barter for,” Allura said crisply. Irritation settled in Keith’s gut as he realized that he was getting paired up with Lance. Again . Lance seemed to realize this, too, as he glared at Keith—like Keith had anything to do with this!
“Lance and Keith, you’re staying behind.”
Lance groaned dramatically, drawing Allura’s wrath almost immediately.
“Coran has a bonding exercise planned for you, since you two are so routinely stubborn about understanding what teamwork means.”
“But Keith—”
“You have just as much culpability as Keith, Lance. The issue is between you both. You are beginning to threaten the stability of Voltron, and I can no longer let it stand. You will do as Coran instructs, and that’s final.”
Coran’s mustache twitched as he grinned, and all Keith could feel was dread. God, it would probably be the equivalent of Altean sleepover games, punctuated with the bizarre romcoms Altea apparently loved , then topped of with constant Are you having fun? Isn’t this so fun? And Lance would just bitch and moan the whole time, or find some excuse to bring his hoard of skin care to the ‘bonding session’ and insult Keith’s entire self.
Yeah.
Great for Voltron.
Allura clapped her hands together. “Alright, let us head to our lions. Keith and Lance, I expect to see progress when we return.”
Hunk and Shiro at least had the decency to offer sympathetic looks as they followed Allura out; Pidge just mouthed don’t die at them.
And then Keith was staring down an overly eager Coran.
“Alright, paladins, come along now,” he said brightly. Reluctantly, Keith slid out of his seat. Lance slumped out of his, hands immediately shoved into his pockets. “Oh, no need for the long faces! This is quite a treat!”
Coran practically skipped down the hallway; the paladins behind him, however, were content to trudge.
“You know, this has been an ancient bonding ritual from the beginning of time. Why, most disputes between comrades ultimately ended up here—one way or another—and morale improved quite quickly. I know for myself, I’ve had my fair few tussles myself. Why, back in the Battle of Herir—”
Keith elected to tune Coran out at this point. And by the way Lance was constantly trying to trip him, it seemed like Lance had, too. Eventually, they came to a door in a part of the castle Keith was pretty certain none of the other humans had been to. Coran was still grinning broadly.
“Alrighty, then,” he said jovially. Keith was all but convinced at this point that they’d be set to duel to the death. Coran only seemed this cheery when it came to battle. “I’ll get this set to two people, you two step inside, and then use this button right here to call me when you’re done.”
Keith didn’t actually want Lance dead, but stepped inside anyway. The door shut behind them as soon as Lance stepped through.
The room was plain—white walls, white floor, white ceiling. It wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either.
Two lights were above the door, and from the segmented panels along the wall, there was clearly room for more.
As soon as the lock engaged, a slot opened in the wall—and Keith immediately wanted to die.
Condoms and lube.
Across the entire galaxy, it turned out that the packaging was the same.
Fuck.
Two lights, system set to two. Condoms and lube. Bonding ritual where you tussle.
No. Absolutely the fuck not.
Keith was not fucking Lance. And Lance’s dick was not going to get anywhere near him if he had a choice. He’d take fighting to the death. He’d take a shitty movie night. He’d honestly accept getting launched into space.
He absolutely did not want to do this.
He’d squashed his minor infatuation with Lance years ago. Tucked it in a box and threw it off a cliff like any sensible person would. He was content with apathy. He wasn’t going to threaten his carefully arranged Jenga tower of emotions over this.
…but he didn’t have a choice, he realized.
The point was for them to fuck out their feelings. Why else would they be locked in a room with lube and condoms? And the lights—that was probably a fucked up way to make sure they… completed their task.
So, like any sane person in this situation, Keith pinned Lance to the wall and kissed him. It was like ripping a band-aid off, honestly. He could keep his Jenga tower stable for the five to ten minutes it took to get a blatant virgin like Lance off, then jerk himself off afterward. Conditions fulfilled, freedom granted, and they could mutually agree to never acknowledge it again.
But of-fucking-course it couldn’t be that simple.
Lance immediately shoved him away.
“What the fuck?!” he screeched.
Keith just glared at him. “Shut up and get your pants off,” he snapped.
“I’m not gay , Keith!”
And, god, the way he spat that shouldn’t make Keith’s dick twitch.
“Then fucking get gay, Lance!” Keith snarked. “Are you that stupid? Didn’t you even bother to listen?”
The pout Keith got in response was legendary. How could anyone make having the emotional band width of a seven year old both cute and sexy?!
But, no— no . This was a transaction. Two orgasms, one open door.
“Just—fuck—let me rub against you, okay? You don’t have to touch my dick,” Keith offered—rather generously, in his opinion. Maybe if Keith showed him that coming wasn’t that scary, he’d actually let Keith get him off.
Lance just frowned. “So…this is just, like, no homo?”
Keith had to physically hold back rolling his eyes. Jesus. Straight boys—this is why he gave up on Lance. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.
“And I can hold onto your mullet? Since it’s basically girly?”
God, Keith should just rip his dick off at this point. But he forced himself to say, “Yeah, that’s fine.”
Hesitant fingers delicately wove into the hair at the nape of Keith’s neck, and Lance gently tugged his head closer. When their lips met, it was easier this time. Lance wasn’t so stiff, and he was so pliant to Keith.
Hip met thigh and Keith found an easy rhythm.
It really shouldn’t be this hot to grind against someone who wasn’t all that into it. But fuck. Lance was so good at kissing, turning it into a perfect push and pull with a polite amount of tongue. And he knew just when to flex his thigh and press harder.
Lance tugged at Keith’s hair and Keith had to physically breathe through it. Yes, they were here to cum. But Lance would never let him live it down if he creamed his pants in two minutes flat. But Lance fucking whined when Keith broke their kiss. Shit. This was so unfair.
“Um. Can you—would you—if I told you to let me take over,” Keith managed out with a surprisingly steady voice, “could you hold your leg just like that? And I’ll do the rest.”
Like helium escaping a balloon, Lance breathed out. “Yeah,” he panted.
Keith swallowed hard and braced his hands on Lance’s shoulders as he ground his weeping dick along Lance’s thigh. God, he was so unfairly hot and Keith would pay anything to be able to do this right. But, he had to let go and in a few short minutes, he could feel the disgusting sticky-hot wetness bloom in his pants as he came.
What he’d pay for Lance to lap it up and lick him clean.
Like a death knell, one of the lights lit up.
Okay.
Fuck.
Hypothesis confirmed.
He just had to convince Lance to cum.
“Okay, your turn,” Keith said. Lance immediately blanched and pressed himself against the wall.
“Woah, no—no!”
“This isn’t an opt-out thing, Lance!”
“I’m not gay!”
Lance’s hard on seemed to tell a different story, but Keith wasn't here to debate that.
“You can fuck my thigh or my hand,” Keith said. “Whatever feels straighter.”
“No!” Lance yelled. “I’m not gay!”
Without even really thinking, Keith boxed him against the wall, using the palm of his hand to grind against Lance’s dick. Futilely, Lance tried to push him off.
“Hand, mouth, or thigh,” Keith said, breath puffing along Lance’s neck. “Your choice.”
The whine Lance let out was almost sinful.
“C’mon. I’m giving you options. Tell me. Or I’ll choose.”
“Stop,” Lance managed out weakly.
“C’mon,” Keith repeated, scraping his palm along Lance’s erection. “Tell me.”
“ Nooo ,” Lance whined—and fuck, it sounded like he was crying. “Keith, please—please—”
It shouldn’t be this hot. Hearing him sob, hearing him plead—Keith should be disgusted with himself. His dick shouldn’t be twitching, heat pooling low—desperately wanting to hear those delicious little whines.
“Okay, it’s okay,” Keith said, honestly for both himself and Lance. “Just let go.”
Lance just continued to whine, even with him pushing into Keith’s hand. Keith thumbed where he hoped the head was; almost immediately, Lance’s back arched.
Okay. Okay. This could be easy.
Just keep pressing there, keep rubbing, keep grinding—
But, no . Of course it couldn’t be that easy.
Lance shoved Keith hard enough that he nearly fell over. His chest was heaving, his face was flushed, his eyes were wet. There was a noticeable dark patch on his jeans. “Fuck you,” Lance panted, voice shaking.
If Keith was any more petty, he would have bothered to reply. Instead, he launched himself at Lance—grabbing him around the waist, spinning him around, and pinning him in place with Keith’s arm across his chest. “I’m trying,” Keith hissed, “to get us out of here.”
By his estimate, they had already been here for twenty or thirty minutes. There had been no food provided. No water. Keith skipped breakfast—like he always had, planning to rely on the not-completely-disgusting nutrient bars in the sanctity of his Lion. Lance had overslept, missing the meal call. He doubted they would starve, but Lance got especially bitchy when he was hungry. Plus, it was significantly more difficult to climax when you were dehydrated and focused on food. So, they really should try to get this done fast.
And then immediately shove the entire interaction into the recesses of their minds.
Keith unbuttoned Lance’s pants with his free hand, offering the briefest apology before running his fingers along Lance’s length. Even straining out of his boxers, Lance’s dick was unfairly pretty. In any other situation, Keith would be eager to get his mouth on it.
But Lance was still trying to fight him—squirming and kicking and cussing.
“Trust me, Lance. I wouldn’t do this shit unless I had to,” Keith snapped.
“Fuck you,” Lance repeated, left leg flailing in his attempts to hit Keith’s ankle.
In retaliation, Keith shoved his hand into Lance’s boxers. His fingers wrapped around the silky, precum-slicked skin of Lance’s cock. Fuck, why did God curse him with such a perfect dick. Why was this the way Keith was finally able to touch him, unable to worship him the way he deserved? His hand dragged up, thumb lightly brushing the transition from shaft to head.
“You’re—you’re sick,” Lance panted.
Keith tightened his grip and twisted on the upstroke. “Cum for me.”
“Fuck,” Lance gasped. “You’re so fucked up.”
Down, then up. Then down with a slight flick, thumb dragging along a vein. Up, then down—keeping a simple, bland rhythm for a few strokes. Then, pause to thumb the head, index gently stroking the back of the tip.
Precum was oozing like a leaky faucet, soaking Keith’s hand.
“C’mon, baby, I feel you twitching,” Keith breathed into Lance’s ear.
Down, fingers dragging, then up at the same pace. Down, then up with a twist.
“No,” Lance whined.
Pause, play with the tip—smear precum to prove a point.
“You’re so wet. I bet you’re so close.”
“Freak,” Lance gasped out. “Need to be on a watch list.”
For as long as he lived, Keith would deny that he retaliated by twisting his wrist on a hard downstroke. He would also deny that Lance’s ensuing moan was enough to revive his own spent dick. However, the reality was, he did do that, and Lance let out a single, drawn-out noise that would put every porn star out of business if anybody else heard it.
Lance squirmed, clearly trying to cover his mouth as his entire face went bright red.
Keith gave him reprieve for two more strokes, but the moment he did it again—
“Nng-ahh,” Lance moaned, managing to swallow the sound a little bit this time. “Fuck,” he breathed out. “Stop.”
But Lance was practically gushing at this point, and Keith was fairly certain it wouldn’t take much more before he came.
Upstroke, gripping tight, then down with a brutal twist. Repeat.
But Lance still wasn’t coming.
Fuck.
His body was twitching, tears in his eyes. He was clearly on the edge. Maybe Keith was playing a little too hard?
“No, stop, please,” Lance sobbed as Keith stroked him harder. “I don’t wanna—”
“You’re doing so good. So good for me, Lance,” Keith murmured. “Let go, okay?”
“No, please—”
“It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He twisted his wrist hard, and he could feel Lance’s dick pulse. “C’mon, baby, tell me what you need.”
“Stop,” Lance whined. “ Stop. ”
Fuck. Why did he have to be so stubborn?! They were going to die, trapped in here, just because Lance refused to cum. How stupid was that?
“Let go. I’ve got you. It’s okay,” Keith murmured. Lance’s spine was bowed at this point, hands clenched as he staved off his own release. God, he was on the crest. Maybe if he just distracted Lance, let his body take over for a second—
Keith bit down on where shoulder met neck, sucking a mark he could already hear Lance bitching about. Liquid coated Keith’s hand—just precum.
“ I don’t wanna be gay, ” Lance whined, bucking up into Keith’s hand.
Jesus fucking Christ. Was that still his hang up? He was going to let them die over that?!
“It’s okay. You’re not,” Keith lied, trying to make it sound sweet. “It’s okay. Just let go.”
A whine slipped from Lance's mouth as he finally relaxed; in two short pumps, he came.
The other light finally lit up.
Keith immediately shoved Lance off of him—his indignant yelp as he crashed to the floor only serving to add fuel to the fire simmering under Keith’s skin. And Lance even had the audacity to look offended .
“Don’t worry,” Keith said snippily, “your heterosexuality is intact.”
The glare he received would have been intimidating, had Lance’s spunk not been drying on his hand. “I liked it better when you were moaning for me,” Lance snapped.
“Better than fucking crying over a handjob . The only way to leave this stupid place .”
“I didn’t cry!”
Keith just stared at the wet ring of tears around his eyes and pointedly raised his eyebrow; Lance angrily wiped them away.
“Well, at least I didn’t cum in my pants!”
“The whole point of this was to cum! It’s some freaky, fucked up Altean bonding ritual, Lance! Or did the lube and condoms not give it away?!”
Tan skin darkened with a blush as Lance looked away.
“You had one job here: to cum. And instead, you bitched and moaned and edged yourself because you’d rather preserve your fragile masculinity than actually be useful!”
“Fuck you!” Lanc snapped; he swiped away a fresh round of tears. “You don’t get it! No one here does!”
“Then tell me!”
“I’m bi!” he nearly screamed, tempering his tone a little before continuing. “I’m bi, in a Catholic family! I don’t get to like guys! I’m supposed to find a wife and have kids and make my parents’ sacrifices worth it. I’ve spent my whole life putting the gay part of me in a box and never touching it. And then you come along. With Shiro—it was easy. I never saw him, not really. But before you disappeared, you were everywhere Keith. You—you stripped down naked in the middle of the locker room once. Like, who does that?! Apparently a guy who doesn’t even know how hot he is! And you never showered after fixing a rig, and you’d show up smelling like sweat and grease and I’d just have sit in a room with you smelling so fucking good.
“And then you disappeared, and I finally got to get back to being the person my parents wanted me to be. And right when I was finally getting my shit back together, you show up and I’m suddenly supposed to pretend like I don’t want to jump you. And you get us launched into fucking space and I can’t ever escape you.” Lance took a deep, shuddering breath, pressing his back against the wall as his fists clenched his pants. “You know how hard it is to pretend to be something you’re not? You know how terrifying it is to even glimpse at a future where you’re not pretending?”
Well, wind: stolen. Sails: flaccid. Keith slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, just a few awkward inches from Lance. “I mean, I know a little about pretending,” Keith said softly. “But, um. Not like that.” He breathed in slowly. “Look, I know—I know this might not change anything, but we’re in space, Lance. We’ve met all different kinds of aliens, and a lot of us on the ship are queer.”
“You can’t count yourself as multiple people, Keith.”
Keith huffed out a laugh. “Shiro’s gay, dude. Pidge says they’re alphabet soup. And Coran’s some variation of not-straight.”
“Shiro’s gay?!” Lance gawped.
“Maybe if you weren’t spending so much time putting your gay in a box, you’d actually be able to develop gaydar.”
Lance was quiet for a moment. Or, well, not a moment. More like two full minutes—but Keith forced himself to stay quiet and still. Until, at last, Lance quietly said, “Keith?”
Keith just made a noise of acknowledgement.
“Can I kiss you?”
His head nodded before he was aware of it. “Uh, sure.”
It was so soft and so gentle and honestly barely anything. But then Lance scooted closer, bracing one hand on Keith’s knee and used the other to cup the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the strands of hair. His lips pressed against Keith’s for three and a half seconds before he pulled away. He seemed to study Keith for a moment before kissing him again—and this time, Keith couldn’t stop himself from moving his lips, turning into a real kiss. He also couldn’t stop himself from curling a hand around Lance’s waist.
Eventually, Lance broke the kiss. “I, um…I’m very gay. All the homo.”
Keith’s eyebrow quirked up. “Is that so?”
“Well, uh, bi, obviously, but with you—um, all the homo.”
“So if I offered you a do-over orgasm…?”
The noise Lance made could be best categorized as a squeak.
“Cuz, honestly, I’d like to make you cry in a good way.”
Lips were back on his, and his lap was full of Lance. Keith gently broke them apart.
“Okay—so—uh, one rule,” Keith said. “If you want me to stop, say red. If you need a breather, tell me yellow. If…if you say stop, I’ll check in, but you get two fake stops before I stop believing you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Lance said breathlessly. “Now can you finger me?”
Keith choked. Literally. Inhaled a bit of spit, and had to figure out how to breathe properly. “Jesus Christ, Lance,” he finally managed out.
“Dude, I have years of pent up fantasies. Please finger me.”
“And I just fucking forced you to cum,” Keith said.
“Keith.” Lance rested his hands on Keith’s shoulders, staring fully into Keith’s eyes. “That was one of the hottest fucking things in my life.” He swallowed hard as his eyes flicked away. “I only fought it so hard cuz I liked it so much.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Lance would be the death of him some day.
He grabbed Lance by the hairs at the nape of his neck and kissed him hard. “Okay,” he panted. “Get your pants off.”
In minutes, they were both naked and Keith had retrieved the lube.
It was genuinely unfair how effortlessly hot Lance was. Miles of perfect skin with the occasional mole or blemish to remind the world that, yes, he was human, too. Lean limbs, toned body, literally the most perfect belly button Keith had ever seen. He didn’t even know he was into that until Lance had stripped off his shirt and Keith was finally able to take a shamelessly intense look at his body.
But now Keith was left with a dilemma.
Where to put his mouth.
He was practically salivating at the idea of finally having Lance’s cock resting against his tongue. But Lance’s ass was practically begging to be bitten and licked. He could also just kiss Lance while slowly working him open—but after all he’d put Lance through, surely Lance deserved a treat, right?
“Uh, dude?” Lance said, breaking into Keith’s stupor. “If you don’t want to—”
Almost out of instinct, Keith swallowed Lance down. And fuck . It was even better than he could have imagined. Lance squeaked, his thighs tensed, and his hips stuttered forward. There was almost no way that Lance hadn’t noticed Keith’s eyes rolling back, or the moan that coursed along his tongue.
“Jesus fuck,” Lance gasped.
Hollowing his cheeks, Keith pulled back. And god , it was every fantasy coming true. Lance felt so good in his mouth. Just the right length and girth, so weighty and intense without being overwhelming. The sensation of skin dragging on his tongue was enough to wake his own dick up.
“Keith—Keith,” Lance panted. “I’m not gonna last. Please.”
He wanted to protest. He did. But if he impressed Lance—proved he wasn’t a creep—he could do this again. So, he allowed himself a final, petulant suck before pulling off. Dolefully, he looked at Lance, who just whined.
“Fuck. You’re so hot—fuck.”
Keith tried not to preen too much as he lifted Lance’s leg, kissing from knee to pelvis—sucking a few defiant marks into his perfect skin. And fuck . When he got to his ass? Keith couldn’t help but lick that perfect globe of muscle and fat. The whine he got in response was legendary. His tongue then probed into the cleft, teasing along Lance’s beautiful cunt.
The sounds Lance made should be recorded and studied, in Keith’s humble opinion. The deeper Keith’s tongue reached, the higher Lance’s voice got. The sound he made when Keith pushed his tongue inside was absolutely insane, and every noise after was a near-symphony. He couldn’t get Lance’s prostate with just his tongue, but it left him wondering just how he’d sound like.
“Fuck-fuck-fuck,” Lance whined.
Slowly, Keith worked a finger inside. Lance screamed , thighs snapping shut to clench around Keith’s head. Instead of immediately coming, like his body was begging, Keith kept thrusting his tongue as his finger curled along Lance’s walls. One finger turned into two, and eventually three. Lance was sobbing at this point, begging to be filled.
Keith allowed himself one final kiss before pulling his fingers out. Slicking his cock up, he poised it at Lance’s entrance.
Fuck, he was so tight. Even with all that prep, his ass had a vice grip around Keith’s cock. Inch by inch, his dick filled Lance. Hot and wet and tight—it was a miracle he didn’t blow. One thrust, then two, then three—and Lance keened and bucked for each.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so good,” Keith managed out. “Feel so good for me.”
Lance’s hips arched up.
“Yeah, that’s it. Cum.”
“No, no, no—”
“C’mon, remember our words. Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” Lance whined. “Fuck me please.”
Keith nailed Lance’s prostate, thrusting a few times before grinding. God, he was so close. It was one, unending sensation of pressure and heat, and he was having to hold himself back. Lance’s whines weren’t really helping, either.
“Okay, baby,” Keith breathed. “But I want you to cum for me. You don’t have to hold back.”
“P-promise,” Lance gasped, “promise we can do this again.”
“Yes,” Keith said without hesitation. “Yes, if you cum, you’re mine.”
On the next thrust, Lance’s back arched and cum splattered from chest to collarbone.
“Okay, in or out. Where can I cum?”
“Inside,” Lance begged.
In a few short, rabbity thrusts, Keith came, driving his cum deep into Lance.
Ineligantly, he collapsed on top of Lance, managing to slightly roll them to one side. Lance was sticky with both their seed, chest heaving and eyes glazed over. Keith had never seen something quite as beautiful. He peppered kisses up and down Lance’s body, eventually settling on his mouth. It was lazy and it was tired and it was inelegant. But it was easily one of the best kisses Keith ever had.
Consider the Jenga tower toppled.
He loved Lance. He could admit that to himself now. Whether Lance reciprocated or not was secondary. (But given Lance let Keith fuck him with minimal consent, then eagerly participated in a second round, Keith had hope.)
And because he loved Lance, he opted for grabbing his own shirt to clean them both up—forsaking very wanted cuddles and his own dignity in the process.
It was the little things, in his opinion.
But Lance just whined. Unsexily this time. (Or, well, less sexily.)
Keith bit his shoulder lightly. “We need Coran to let us out,” he said. “And I think it’d be better if we weren’t coated in spunk.”
Lance pouted spectacularly, reluctantly accepting Keith’s offered kiss. “You’re lucky I love you,” he huffed—immediately blanching and blushing. “I mean—”
“I love you, too, Lance,” Keith said, swallowing down the giddy bubbles that admission brought. “Wipe yourself down, cover yourself up.”
Lance complied, still blushing.
Coran letting them out with a smug grin on his face and a jovial wink would live in Keith’s nightmares for years to come. Thankfully, he’d have Lance at his side and in his bed.